Everyone has a Story to Tell
by TearsoftheFallen
Summary: Please read 'These Beautiful Monsters' first. Everyone has a past and these people are no exception. These are their stories. Includes Iyad, Fath, Thiza, Tahir, and more.
1. Kazim Part 1

**_AN: So I hope you guys like this early chapter. I originally planned to upload it after chapter nine...but it's not quite ready yet and I haven't posted in a while so here is Kazim part 1!  
Today, I am officially one year older. I'm not particular about birthdays, but it was alright. Anyways, Here you are and I hope you enjoy._**

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_Oo~ High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life ~oO_

_Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time_

_Hold still right before we crash 'cause we both know how this ends_

_A clock ticks 'til it breaks your glass and I drown in you again_

_'Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn't need_

_Oo~ Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don't know why ~oO_

_Clarity, by Zedd._

_**~oO Kazim Oo~**_

_He was five years old._

And so was Tahir, his identical twin. Twin boys, their parents were as proud as they could be to have two sons. Boasting to neighbors, bringing the boys up in every conversation possible; it was as if no one had heard of them. The people in the village didn't mind, though; the brothers were more than entertaining. Well, at least one of them were.

Tahir was loud; loud and playful. He was the one with character, everyone said. Never did anyone kick him out, yell at him or tell him to get lost; he never got into fights because he was so positive and pretty much everyone loved him. Always play with the other kids in the village, he'd always get his chores done, and he always respected everyone. No one really hated him.

Except Kazim.

Kazim was the oldest brother by five minutes and he didn't cry at birth let alone move. His own parents thought he was dead. Maybe it was because the way his eyes were closed when he was expelled from his mother's body, or maybe it was because no one heard him breathe; no one saw him move a muscle. His parents were ready to give him up because they knew in an instant after he was born that there was another, Tahir. Instead of investigating their first son, his father handed him to their village elder, Mishal.

Mishal, a rapidly aging man, made Kazim feel something, talking to him was oddly relieving. If it weren't for the old man on several occasions, Kazim would have gone mad with rage because of the way people seemed to treat him in comparison to his younger brother. When he was born Mishal took him and made sure that he was alright. It turned out that Kazim was just naturally silent. Still, at least someone thought he was worth the attention. The old man took him under his wing and he'd always be grateful.

Both boys possessed the same sandy, light brown hair and brown eyes, but Kazim's eyes were slightly darker. Mishal told Kazim about how he could always tell them apart because of the difference of their eyes, but not by the shade of color. He told the older twin that his eyes were old, wise; Kazim didn't really believe in reincarnation, but it was a great story. He didn't want to ruin it.

While Kazim hated Tahir, Tahir didn't hate Kazim. He didn't even know how Kazim felt because of how distant they tended to be. Not that he ever asked what was wrong, no. The younger brother loved Kazim, too _much_ sometimes. How _dense _did you have to be to love so blindly?

At five years old, Kazim was known as 'Tahir's older brother' and not just 'Kazim'. So he was a quiet child, he didn't mind it; being silent meant that he wouldn't have to deal with conversation. Except what he did mind were his parents.

"Kazim, are you studying?" Kazim raised his head from the papers on his desk and set his quill down.

She was a thin woman with sunken cheeks and frail arms; her hair was a faded light brown like her sons' and her eyes were hazel. They got their brown eyes from their father. She wasn't exactly a tall woman, but if she resembled anything, it was a skeleton. The brown locks that decorated his face were in a desperate need of cutting, but he never seemed to get around to it. Besides, the blade he used for his hair had disappeared from its drawer months ago. For a five year old boy, he was surprisingly capable.

"Yes, mom." he'd smile as he'd held up his work. Maybe this time she's see how much work he had put into his studies. One could hope, right?

She'd snatch it from his hands and barely glance it over. He didn't mind if she did, but at the same time, he wanted her to smile at him and tell him that he was going to become a great scribe someday like any other mother would; he wanted her to compliment his practicing how to spell, his dedication to learning, and his passion for literature. If he wasn't trying hard enough, he wanted her to tell him so he could work harder to please her and not just pass him by. But as her eyes would skim the page, he could feel his optimism drain away like water on a hot day. Finally, she'd just hand it back to him and say something like, 'Your handwriting needs work' or 'stop smearing the ink' and sometimes 'Why don't you just give up now while you still can?' She would sigh and say 'Your handwriting is still hideous' at the end of everything and walk out with an irritated huff.

Disappointed, Kazim took the paper and continued with his work while, outside, Tahir was too busy talking with the neighbors to study or read. What really put him down, though, was the fact that Tahir was never bugged to do anything like he was. And while he watched his younger brother from the window playing with boys their age, he wondered, 'Why did he care?' That's just it though, because he shouldn't.

Constantly inside, Kazim took to the charismatic men and woman in the biographies and in the children's stories he found so little of in his father's study. The collection of books in his room were from Mishal's private collection, but the old man was kind enough to share. Adventure, knowledge, passion; he took it all in and purged it to anyone he could, whether they wanted to listen or not.

"I've read about this one," he said one afternoon. Tahir had taken him outside to play with his friends because he thought he didn't get out enough, "It's a Jasmine plant. If you eat the berries, it'll disturb your digestive system and I think, _I think_, that the book said it was fatal. But the smell that the blossom gives off is great for incense!" That was the last time Tahir's friend let Kazim play with them.

_He was six. _

**Oo~~oO**

His father wasn't as harsh as his mother, but he was extremely strict. If his son wasn't reading, he made sure he was studying, and if he wasn't studying, he made sure he was reading. If he was doing anything else, he'd ask him why he wasn't studying. Out of sight, out of mind was probably what he was probably trying to put into motion.

"Kazim, I need your help with chores." He said one day. Kazim quickly put his books away and ran to his father's side. He led them to their animal pen across the house where their pigs and sheep were being held.

"I need you to get in there and shear a few of the sheep while I take care of the pigs." He explained, moving towards the front of the to the side, Tahir was watching for predators. Kazim glared in his direction. He hated his brother, though he was ashamed of admitting it. But who got all the attention? Not Kazim. Who got all the praise? Again, not him. Tahir was the spoiled one; he strived to do better than his twin all the time, but nothing was good enough. No matter what he did.

But now, his father trusted him with his sheep! This was a large step; his father's sheep, the things he took care of the most was now in his care _and_ much better job than being a guard. Tahir must be jealous, he mused.

His father handed him a pair of old sheers, a large woven basket, and a look that screamed 'don't mess up' before sending him off towards the fields out back. He climbed over the gate and tried to contain himself so he wouldn't scare the animals. So while he slowly approached one of the mother sheep, he gave low, soft, coos. She bleated at his arrival. She allowed him to stroke her head and leant into his touch while her lamb clumsily ran around her legs, asking for attention. Animals…he liked them. If not more than books then just as much. There was nothing more beautiful than a baby animal; nothing was more loyal than a pet. When lamb stumbled into his legs and looked up at him, Kazim just _had_ to stop his work. It looked up at him with big brown eyes, flicked its tongue out at him, and gave a long, lonely cry.

_Cute._

Kazim smiled softly and stroked its' fuzzy head before returning to work. It only took about fifteen minutes to clear her of the scratchy material, but the basket was _barely_ full. No complaining, though.

An hour in and his father came to check on him.

"Am I doing it right?" Kazim questioned. His father nodded, stoically ruffling his hair.

"You're doing well, keep going until that basket is full and come back." he replied, already returning to the house. Kazim was practically beaming with pride. A job and compliment from his father? Almost unheard of…today was starting to look up. That is…until Tahir ran up, sword in hand, grinning.

"Hey, Kazim! Look!" The older brother glanced up from his work and watched his brother swing the weapon. It look horrendous—he had no skill with the weapon! And how did he get it anyways? Wasn't that from his father's workshop?

"Tahir!" Kazim scolded, "Stop doing that! You're going to hurt..." Tahir shot his brother a smug look, as if he believed that he was immune, but as he twirled the sword in a mock figure eight, his grip faltered; he swung it in a low arc, preparing to thrust forward when, in a moment of hesitation, the sword dropped from his hand. Tahir cried out and his brother's eyes slowly widened. The sword had slammed down on his leg, "...yourself—FATHER!" Kazim yelled, dropping the basket and sprinting towards the house. "Tahir, stay there!" he yelled, running across the dirt path while his brother wailed. How could his brother be so stupid? No, it wasn't Tahir's fault was it? Kazim adored the stainless metal too, he would have done the same thing…but no, he would have been far more careful about it! How could _he _be so stupid to leave his younger brother alone with something like that?

As he ran, he wondered what his parents would say. Would they beat him for being so stupid? Would they wonder why he let his brother play with a sword? Would they ask if Kazim gave his brother the sword? Accuse him? Blame him? They couldn't do that, could they? He told him not to and his brother did it anyways! But then he saw it, the truth: it wasn't _his _fault, no, it was Tahir's...but it wasn't likely that his parents would see it that way.

He silenced the negative thoughts plaguing his head before they ventured any further and burst through the front door of their small house, swinging around wildly looking for their father, their mother, anyone who'd be around. Maybe he should have headed for Mishal.

"Father!" He yelled. There was a resounding sound of acknowledgment from the back rooms. Kazim quickly made his way through the hallway and didn't stop opening doors until he found his father in the study. The older man gave a heavy sigh.

"Kazim, you know better than to shout—"

"Father! Tahir's been hurt!" he sobbed hysterically.

"What?" His father quickly stood up and made his way around his cluttered work area and pushed past Kazim who followed in suit.

Back by the animals, Tahir had collapsed to the ground and started holding his leg, howling in pain. When Kazim and their father arrived, Kazim took off his shirt and wrapped it around the wound. He remembered that in one of his books, he read that wounds needed pressure and cleaning and that, depending on the width and depth of the cut, sometimes needed to be sewn closed.

"Help me move him." his father instructed, moving to lift Tahir's upper body while Kazim moved to get under his legs. A pain filled cry ripped from Tahir's throat when they lifted him from the ground.

**Oo~~~oO**

"It's okay, Tahir." Kazim cooed, as he finished bandaging the appendage. The younger brother ended up with no stitches in his calf, but he did have to stay in bed for weeks; after the extreme pain his brother had to go through, it was like a blessing to see him pass out halfway through. Kazim ended up doing all the chores with father for those weeks Tahir was too sick to stay mobile and in all the free time he had he wound up looking for medicinal herbs to use on Tahir's leg. He didn't want it getting infected. In addition to possible infection, Tahir was showing signs of a fever. All the more reason to help his brother.

But in all this time, his mother and father didn't stop criticizing him the entire time he worked. They said that he needed to work harder in the field of crops—that he needed to change Tahir's bandages more often, that he spent so much time outside he didn't study as much as he should have. If only they knew that he was searching for medicine for his twin, he wouldn't be yelled at nearly as much. He'd tried to tell them before, but it did him no good. _Besides_, he thought with a bitter smile, _who would believe someone who let their younger brother play with a sword?_

One afternoon, he went out searching for medicinal herbs and came back with his arms full of leaves and roots. . His mother was in front of the house looking positively furious. Kazim spotted her yards away, arms crossed, foot tapping.

"Where have you been?" she asked. Kazim held his arms out for emphasis and his mother watched some of the leaves fall to the ground.

"Tending to the garden I hope, because you were supposed to change Tahir's bandages long ago!" she growled. Kazim groaned. He forgot about that and the garden.

"I was just-"

"Throwing those away? I hope so."

"No, mother, these are herbs for Tahir."

"So you're trying to poison him?"

"What? No!" He was appalled,"I'm trying to help him!" he cried. That's when his mother sneered and frankly, that frightened him.

"You say you're trying to help him but you've been nothing but a problem to all of us this entire time,"_ What?_ "And how would you know about all these herbs? From your reading? Your studying? You're nothing but a child," Kazim's arms tightened around his bundle of plants. Where was all this coming from? Repressed anger was slowly building up inside of him with every word she spat in his face, his eyebrows knitting closer and closer together, "It'd be better if you weren't here to take up space." _No. _Kazim threw the herbs down around his feet and clenched his hands; his face flushed dark red, spreading from his ears and down his neck. Sharp vocabulary laced with harsh sounds were dancing around his tongue, begging him to let them free and that's exactly what he did.

"And I call you my _**mother**_?" he yelled, mocking, "Here I am trying to help my brother and look at_ you! _berating me and preventing me from helping. And where have _you_ been anyways? You weren't the one who fed him, no, father did that! I changed his bandages and you never assisted in anything!" He took a few steps forward, crushing the plants below his feet, "I study and I keep quiet because it was _you _and _father _who told me to shut up and do as you instructed. I read because I enjoy it and not that it matters since nothing pleases you!" his mother was starting to back up now, but her face was turning an equal shade of red. Kazim was finally speaking his mind; he wasn't going to be quiet anymore.

"No longer will I try to please you, I will please the people who matter to _me _and guess what, _mother_," the endearment dripped with hostility and spite, "The only good thing you did for me that was worth _anything _was make me study. Do you have any idea why that is?" he pointed a finger at her, "Because _now, _I am smarter than you and father _combined_." he hissed. This was the first time he showed even a touch of narcissism. Not even a second after the last word left his mouth she raised a hand and struck his cheek, fury plain as day written on her face. His head jerked to the side and a small whine shuddered from his throat. Did she just...hit him?

Kazim stood up straight and the thought of retaliating crossed his mind, but he fought against it. His face returned back to its regular shade of tan except for the soft, red outlining of his mother's hand on his left cheek.

He thought about retaliating, about taking the chance to return the favor and hit her back for all the times when he was younger when she left him crying, wondering why she and father didn't love him like they loved his younger brother. It wouldn't take much, just one step forward and 'WHAM'. But, no, he couldn't do that; he wouldn't stoop to their level. He took a step back for good measure and crushed the rest of his herbs. His mother allowed herself look smug. Kazim thought that she couldn't possess a more fitting expression.

"Don't you ever disrespect me again. I have half a mind to put you on the streets." she snapped. Well, they did. Turns out, his father was listening from the window and when he came out of hiding he looked just as livid as his mother...they told him to get out, that they wouldn't stand to have a traitor to his family laying around.

So he packed a bag of necessities and left, not bothering to say goodbye to Tahir. He couldn't. His brother wouldn't have even gotten a word out with his fever anyways. Even if Kazim wouldn't admit it, he felt as if his heart was splitting in two as he approached the village gates.

_He was thirteen._

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_**AN: Leave me some feedback! Did you like this chapter, do you like the story, what do you think, etc. Feedback is appreciated! **_

**_I go back to school on September 3rd so chapters might be slower but I will sincerely finish this. I might start other fanfictions on the way, but that doesn't mean I won't finish this one. Hope you all had a nice summer! :) [Good lord it's so  
_**

_**Stay Chill~.** _


	2. Kazim Part 2

**_AN: _****_Wow, so this chapter went up fast too. I've had it for a while, just haven't posted it. Hope you guys like it! Special thanks to SpookieKitten for beta-ing! You're an amazing beta and I hope college is treating you well! :D  
Enjoy~._**

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**_Oo~ _**_Lately I been, I been losing sleep __**~oO**  
__Dreaming about the things that we could be__  
__Baby I been, I been prayin' hard__  
__Said no more counting dollars__  
**Oo~ **__We'll be counting stars _**_~oO_**

'_Counting Stars' by One Republic._

**~oO Kazim Oo~**

_Five days._

That was how long he spent out in the open sun, traveling from village to village. He slept on the streets, in the trees, scavenging for food and stealing when he could. Scratches, bite marks, bug bites, bruises, and cuts decorated his body, some of them delivered to him from the people who he robbed. From his small village by Damascus, he walked all the way to nowhere and although he had no recollection of the maps he studied, he was proud to get as far as he did.

Mishal was probably worried about him…he was scared when he left his home to find him. Scared and apologetic.

_"I'm sorry." _he_ had told him. Mishal gripped his shoulders and looked into his eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. He looked more wrinkled and worn than usual._

"_Do not be sorry…_You _were doing the right thing." _he _croaked. Was he? Was he really doing the right thing? Tahir was sick and injured…_he_had helped because he was worried his twin _would_ die. What if it was out of pity?_

_"He's your twin. It's in your nature to love him." Mishal smiled. Kazim pursed his lips. Was he speaking out loud?_

_"It's pure insanity!" He had _yelled._ "I was the first born. It's not supposed to be this way!" Mishal was shaking his _head._ "I don't want to leave." Kazim whispered. They treated him like nothing, acted like they didn't love him, ignored him, but this was his home. He wanted to take Tahir and Mishal with him; if he could somehow strap his brother down to a horse and get Mishal comfortable enough…he would. It was _selfish._ So selfish, so pathetic, but as much as he hated this place, his parents, was it so wrong to want to take the good with him too? His parents…how could they do this to him? How could they banish their first born? _

_Mishal regarded Kazim sadly and sat him down on an old rickety chair. In a soothing voice, he told him that it was alright to be afraid. He had listened to him when he said that he'd be better off somewhere else than here. It was all he could do right now. His brother would be alright, he assured him. Kazim had no chance but to accept it._

"_There is a village," _he _explained, "It's where I originally came from when I was _traveling _here… I think you'll like it there. You'll be fine and you'll be alive; do you understand?" Kazim had nodded, but still puzzled. Mishal got up and left for his desk and the younger boy watched him scrawl something illegible from his spot and stamp it with a kind of seal. When he returned, Kazim was close to breaking down, still shocked and angry._

_"I'll send this to them." Mishal gave him a toothy smile, "I want you to take this map with you. I'm sure those years of studying will come in handy now." After being given a scroll, a dagger, a small bundle of bread, and an old leather book, Mishal embraced him tiredly. _

_"My child…I'm so proud of you," He mumbled, "And I am so sorry to see you leave, but I've enjoyed watching you grow up here. I am happy to have taught you how to read, write; I am so glad to have helped you learn…perhaps you'll come visit these old bones again someday!" He chuckled. The younger boy sniffed and tried to hold back his tears as he let his friend go. No…they both knew that he was never coming back._

Tired, physically exhausted, dehydrated, and famished, he fell. At first, he didn't realize that he had hit the ground, but when his teeth clicked together and his legs stopped aching he knew he had to get up.

"Get up..." he croaked.

"No, I don't think you should..." someone drawled. Kazim lifted his head and winced. The sun hurt. Was this God? Allah? Buddha? Whatever or whoever it was, they were kneeling over him now and...what was that, water? He didn't know; someone turn off the light…

"Up you go." They took him by the arm and lifted him up to a sitting position, but Kazim scrambled back, withdrawing a dagger from his boot. He'd received it from Mishal the day he left…it was strange that the old man had kept it.

The man before him was obviously Arabic: Black hair, black beard, dark eyes. It was a nice change from the sight of Christian skin back at Damascus. He was old, not Mishal old, but old, and his face was shadowed by a pristine white hood.

"Get…back." He panted. It was hot, so hot…when did his water run out? Was it yesterday? The man lifted his hands, but didn't step back or shrug away. What was he trying to pull?

"Shhh, calm down." Kazim glared at him and brandished the weapon further, his eyes half-lidded, struggling for the right words.

"I…"

"Put that away before you hurt yourself…"

Then it occurred to him: What if this man had food? Water! That horse would take him where he needed to go, certainly. Mishal told him to stay alive, and dammit, he would. If this man was going to rob him, he had another thing coming. There was a sword at his side, but at this close a distance it would do him very little. There were throwing knives on his sides…But could he reach them before Kazim could do damage? Probably not if he was fast enough.

With the last of his strength, he flung himself fiercely towards the man's neck with the dagger pointed towards him, bloodthirsty. But his target moved out of the way twice his speed and grabbed his arm, pushing him to the ground and pinning him down. Surprised, Kazim cried out and tried to kick him.

"Let me go!" He yelled, voice hoarse.

"Stop fighting then and let go of the dagger!" The man yelled back.

At this point, Kazim was near hysterics; thrashing violently, kicking, and grunting was all he could really do at this point and even that didn't last very long. The strength was slowly leaving his legs when he sobbed, shaking.

"I can't die here." He gasped, trying to fit more oxygen into his lungs. The air was thick, dusty. If this man was going to kill him why didn't he just do it already!

No, he didn't kill him, but plucked the old weapon from his hands and tossed it to the sides, finally releasing him. Kazim coughed and rolled onto his back, eyes closed, eyebrows knit. It was too hot. He was too thirsty.

The older man sat down next to the boy and shoved a flask of water into his hands. Kazim opened his eyes, squinting up at him then towards his hand. What if it was poisoned?

As if he was reading his mind, the mysterious figure took the flask back and took a short swig, swallowing.

"No poison, see?" He smiled, gently pressing it back into his hand. That was all the incentive he needed to sit up and start guzzling the miracle liquid.

"What's your name, kid?" Kazim forced himself to stop inhaling the man's water to respond.

"Kazim. Kazim Ishna." he gasped. The man tapped the flask and Kazim took another drink.

"I'm Fahd. Drink up." Catching the boys pursed lips, he laughed, "Don't worry, I have more." he said. Fahd pulled off his bag and dug through it for a bit and Kazim watched with minor curiosity while he finished off the flask. What was he doing so far out here anyways? "Ah!" he pulled out a bundle of blue fabric, untied it, and handed the young boy a few slices of dried fruits. Kazim took them almost too eagerly and inhaled them too; the older man tried to repress his chuckles.

"How long have you been traveling, Kazim?"

"Five and a half days." he replied between mouthfuls of food. Fahd gave a low whistle.

"That long? Wow. Most kids your age live about four days." Kazim nodded and swallowed.

"I know," He replied arrogantly, "I'm not most kids." Fahd rolled his eyes.

"That's a bold statement there, Kazim," Fahd mused."Why are you so far out here, anyways?"

"I could ask you the same." There was a small pause and Kazim mumbled something incoherent under his breath. After a while, he crossed his legs and said, "My parents me to leave." The older man raised an eyebrow.

"You drink up all their water too?" Did he think he was being funny? Kazim's eyes narrowed. Annoying, he thought. Besides, didn't he say he had more water? If he was going to be so conspicuous about his water supply, why waste it on him?

"They thought I was trying to poison my brother."

"Oh—well, were you?"

"No! Of course not!"

"I don't know you. For all I know, you could be a Templar."

"A what?"

"Never mind," Fahd laughed, offering him more fruit. Kazim took another apricot slice and gave his thanks, "Where are you heading to then? Maybe I can give you a lift." He suggested. The young boy nodded, excited, and pulled Mishal's scroll from the bag on his back without taking it off, handing it to the older man.

"Have you ever been there? I've read about it a few times…but there isn't much to read about it. It's a small village on the cliffs of a mountain, but it's been standing for a…well, long time." He murmured. Fahd was staring at him, blinking rapidly. Was he mocking him?

"You can read?" He asked. Kazim blanched.

"Didn't…you listen to what I was telling you? Of course I can read. Can't you?"

"Obviously." Fahd scoffed. Kazim was confused; didn't everyone read? He watched Fahd look the scroll over and almost jumped when the man laughed.

"You're not too far. I'm not going to give you a ride!" He laughed. _What._

"What? But you said you would!" Fahd stood up, "Are you going back on your word?" Kazim growled, pushing himself up weakly when Fahd started moving towards his horse. The man rolled his eyes and went to fix the saddle.

"No, I'm 'going back on my word' since I just came from there. You'll survive," Then suddenly, Fahd froze, his arms going rigid, "Why do you want to go to Masyaf anyways?" He asked, obviously suspicious. Kazim's eyebrows knit together in slight confusion. Why the sudden curiosity?

"Well…I left my home—remember—and an friend told me to come here…said he'd send a letter." He slowly explained. Fahd's expression lifted and he grinned.

"Alright. I'll see you when I get back, Kazim. Just head that a-way." Fahd pointed and Kazim gave his word of thanks, adjusting the bag on his back.

And so the walking continued.

**Oo~~*~~*~~oO**

Masyaf definitely wasn't anything like what he read in his books. It was much bigger and much more dull. The sun was set past the noon point and it seemed that some people were inside for a break from their daily chores. To him, that was better because he had more room to walk. While the village was small, it held this little power of mystery. Like what was such a big castle needed for when the village they ruled was so small compared to others? Maybe the village was run by someone of noble blood? With this big of a castle, they had to be some type of rich or powerful person. But what use would it do for anyone? It was too big for almost any purpose unless they were harboring that large of an army. More importantly, what purpose did Mishal have for sending him here?

Then again...he did think it was odd for so many guards to be patrolling the streets in those kinds of numbers. Maybe they were building an army? For what, though? And was Fahd part of that army? He _was _dressed in the same uniform; White tunic, hood, red sash, but these guards had gray in theirs. Fahd didn't, did he? No, then what was he serving as? A scout, a traveling scholar? It didn't matter, Kazim wanted to find out for himself, though he didn't know how. Should he go to the castle ground? So many questions.

Approaching the nearest woman, he tapped her on the shoulder and asked her if she knew anything about the castle.

"You aren't from here, are you?" she asked. He gave a small 'no' and glanced towards the castle.

"Could you tell me about-"  
"Help! Spy! Guards help!" Kazim froze. _What?_

Immediately, the nearest group of guards rushed over, swords brandished. One of them grabbed him by forearm and he struggled, yanking back to get free. Kazim shouted and tried to fight back, but after going several days with little to no food, he didn't have much strength. He kicked the nearest one and twisted violently in their grip.

"Let go of me! I'm not a spy!" he tried harder. They were yelling at him, telling him to give it up and come with them; if he stopped struggling he would live, and if he didn't, well, the opposite. But he wasn't a spy! They didn't know that though. It frightened him to wonder what they were going to do with him.

Suddenly, the man with his left arm spun him around and forced his arm up his back. The appendage twisted painfully and Kazim cried out, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. They were hyper extending his arm. With the new advantage against the younger boy, the guard pushed him to the ground and ordered someone else help him tie his hands.

_Oh_, he thought with a gasp, _this wasn't going to end well._

They took him to the castle after that (to his displeasure), and he wasn't surprised to see that everyone was wearing similar uniforms to each other. There were distinct differences in everyone's attire, though. One man would wear plain white robes decorated with little trinkets like a red sash, a silver breastplate, and a small sword of some kind strapped to his back; others wore a kind of gray tunic, but without any of the trinkets with only one weapon: A broadsword. What kind of place was this? There was no mention of these guards in his texts, let alone a castle.

The group of guards throttled him on their way up a long staircase. Questions were thrust at him like hot stones:

"Where are you from, street-rat?"

"Who sent you here?"

"Why are you here?"

"You all, give him a break!" It was that one kind soul Kazim was thankful for. The one person who seemed to be the only one in their right mind. The man who spoke looked at least seven years older than Kazim. He was tall, maybe 6'1, with a small goatee taking form from what he could see around the hood he kept up. He had black hair, tanned skin, and looked strong, but with that kind of dazed sound in his voice.

"Leave us, Ahamm." one of the guards barked. Ahamm took in a sharp breath.

"He's just a child, do you really think he could be a spy?" he said. A few of the others laughed.

"Your heart is too soft; anyone could be a spy."

"So you'll live in paranoia for the rest of your life?"

"Come off it, Ahamm!"  
"Walk faster, boy!" They shoved Kazim forward a few steps and he stumbled, falling to the ground, scraping the right half of his face. Allah, that hurt...

Ahamm knelt down and picked him up. At least someone had some respect.

"I'm not a spy!" Kazim yelled, "Listen to your friend here!" They ignored him and pushed him around the corner. A training ring came into view and the sound of metal clashing on metal reached everyone's ears. The courtyard was bustling with such life that took Kazim's breath away. It was like stepping into one of his books. People were cheering around the ring, men off to the side talking with other men, guards stationed every three feet; this was somewhat like what he read about old Egyptian palaces.

"Welcome to Hell, boy." sneered one of the guards. The magical feeling he had was broken and he prayed, to any deity who would listen, that he wouldn't die this soon into his adventure.

They pushed him past the training room and up a winding stairway to the doors overlooking the courtyard. The guards stationed there gave them the clearance to enter.

"Going to see Master Al Mualim?" someone asked.

"Yep."

Kazim looked around and gaped. Scrolls and books everywhere; there were countless amounts of shelves on each side of them that were filled to the top with different forms of information. Charts and pictures lined the walls, scholars paced around their work spaces and pulled more scrolls from their piles, even some of the white robed guards were taking notes. It was a wonderful sight. Had someone said Hell? This was exactly the opposite: Heaven.

The only thing was, someone had just grabbed his head; a blindfold was slipped over his eyes and, with a gasp, Kazim attempted to throw it off. Not being able to see was horrifying, he couldn't let them take that away from him.

"Stop fighting!" Someone shouted. More hands grabbed his person and a terrifying mix of fear and claustrophobia took hold on his heart. A small, pitiful whine bubbled from his mouth.

"Let go!" he managed. They were forcing him to walk forward now, his feet hit against the first step to the second floor and he pitched forward, hitting his chin for the third time today. His mouth was starting to taste like copper.

"Get up!" they yanked him up by the ropes that bound him and kept going.

"What is this?" Kazim looked around, "Ahamm?" he called out. Did they get Mishal's letter? _The letter_, he remembered.

"They're taking you to see the grand master."

"But why?" he asked. He tried struggling again, but his arm felt like it was about to fall off.

"It's best if you don't fight." The older man told him.

"Ahamm, you are starting to sound like his friend!" someone barked. They started to climb more stairs.

"Maybe a friend is what he needs because he is _not _a spy!"

"Bah! You don't know what you're saying." More stairs still; Kazim's legs felt like they were going to fall off.

"Quiet you two," one of the guards hissed, "We're here." the stairs stopped and he was led a few more feet before everyone stopped. Kazim was shoved down to his knees, much to Ahamm's displeasure (and Kazim's too).

All of the guards holding him bowed their heads in respect.

"Master." the elder overlooking the courtyard turned around and greeted them.

"And who is this?"

"A spy who infiltrated the-"

"I'm not a spy!" Kazim cried, shaking his head, "I'm Kazim Ishna from the outskirts of Damascus. I have a twin brother back at home, I've been traveling. My friend Mishal told me to come here," he moaned, "Please don't kill me." Al Mualim raised an eyebrow and addressed the guards again.

"Is this true?"

"We don't know anything about him, master."

"Then how do you know he's a spy?" he asked. The speaking guard stood triumphantly.

"He is from the country we just infiltrated. Do we not expect them to send spies?" he hissed. Al Mualim hunched over his desk and pondered a few things for a minute. Then he opened his mouth and said:

"That is true, but they would not send someone so thin, someone so unhealthy and weak. Look at him, almost as bruised as the fruit we threw out yesterday. They would send someone on a horse who wouldn't be so in danger of dying on the trip. This one," he took a good look at Kazim, "looks like he's already on death's doorstep." To Kazim's left, Ahamm nodded. He shot the other guards a heated glare, but the master wasn't done yet.

"Not only that, but Mishal is an old friend of mine. I received his letter two days ago, Kazim is our newest apprentice." Kazim's jaw dropped. Mishal never told him he knew someoneso powerful and what was he going to be apprenticed for? The guards holding him let go like they were burned and Ahamm was grinning with pride. Well, he did tell them so. He pulled the sack off of Kazim's head and tossed it at one of them.

Now, the man he stood before was old—Mishal old—with a long gray-ish beard and wise eyes. He was in black robes, entirely different from the constant white robes he'd been seeing on his way here. It looked like they were in a study; a single desk sat in the middle of the floor before a grand set of windows that probably over-looked the courtyard. Kazim took note of the two book cases on either side and beamed at all the books that lined them. He'd have to go back and thank Mishal one day…

"Master, if you don't mind, I'd like to take him to the infirmary." Ahamm said. The rest of the guards started to object until Al Mualim nodded.

"Go, Ahamm." Ahamm took Kazim's blindfold off and gestured for him to follow. Kazim glanced back at Al Mualim.

"Thank you." he said. Al Mualim gave a small smile and waved them off.

The trip to the infirmary was quiet. They walked side by side down halls, halls, halls, and more halls; whenever Kazim would ask questions, he replied happily.

"Why did you help me?" He asked. Ahamm rolled his eyes.

"I can't help you?"

"I didn't say that." Kazim frowned.

"I know," Ahamm would laugh, "What would you do in my place? You're just minding your own business and then _wham _your brothers are bringing a _child _towards the dungeons. Ridiculous." He muttered. Kazim blinked up at him and they walked into the infirmary. A young woman was frantically muttering under her breath. She was busy grinding herbs when they walked in and didn't notice Ahamm lift the younger boy up onto a table. He cleared his throat and she whipped around.

"What?" She snapped. Ahamm lifted his hands up and laughed.

"Calm down, Cala. Can you take care of him while I go get him something to eat?" he asked. The woman scoffed.

"This is an infirmary, not a dining room." She quipped. Ahamm leaned over and pecked her on the cheek with a muttered please. She rolled her eyes and waved him off with a smile. Ahamm looked towards Kazim with a smile.

"Be right back. Don't move." Where was he going to go?

Cala shoved the herbs away and opened a cabinet, removing a few bandages and vials.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" She asked. Kazim pursed his lips and inspected himself for a moment. He had a nasty cut on his chin from when he fell…but other than that, he was okay. Cala came towards him and set a few bottles on the table beside him. "Hold still." She muttered, inspecting his cut. Kazim tried not to squirm; she kept touching his face.

"Your name is suiting," She mumbled. Kazim glanced down at her, "You aren't very talkative. I haven't heard you say a word…and with Ahamm, I'm surprised you still have ears; he talks them off all the time. It suits you." She finished. Kazim gave her a timid smile. He had no doubt about it; his name literally meant well-tempered, cool, and patient.

"You name is very fitting as well," He replied, "It means 'castle', right?" She nodded but didn't understand how it fit her.

"Well, um," he mumbled, "You live in a castle." He said lamely. Cala burst out laughing and ruffled his hair, but said nothing. He watched her busy herself with the ointments she rubbed on his chin, examined how she cut the bandages and pressed them to his chin.

"Hold that there. You do not stop until I tell you to." She ordered. Ahamm returned moments later carrying a bowl of mushroom soup and a chunk of bread. Kazim tried not to drool when the smell wafted into the room. He handed it to Kazim and wrapped an arm around Cala who leaned into him with a grunt. He nibbled at the bread timidly, still holding onto the bandage. He wanted to show that he possessed manners, after all. Mother always told him to eat pleasantly in front of other people, not like a slob. Cala raised an eyebrow at him and Ahamm pursed his lips.

"Kazim, eat." He ordered. Kazim swallowed and put the bread back on his plate.

"I am." He replied hoarsely. Ahamm shook his head.

"No, you're barely eating anything," He said, moving towards him, "Eat." Kazim pressed his lips into a thin line, something he did when he was nervous, but Ahamm took this as resistance and picked up the bread, pressing it into the boy's free hand.

"Why aren't you eating?" He asked.

"Mother used to say…not to eat like a slob." Kazim muttered. There was a small moment of silence between the three and Kazim squirmed. It felt awkward and, under the pressure, he bit harshly into the bread and tore a piece off. Ahamm hid a smile beneath his hand and Cala laughed.

"Can he stay with us?" She asked. Kazim stopped chewing and looked at them with puzzled eyes. As if Ahamm could read his mind, he pulled Cala close and smiled down at him.

"Kazim, this is Cala. My wife. We both live in the castle." He explained. Kazim blinked at them and uttered a small 'oh'.

"Didn't I say that this wasn't a cafeteria?" She barked, pushing him away from her playfully. Ahamm froze and pursed his lips. Kazim had to roll his eyes at his new friend. He was oblivious to her teasing.

"I—well—,"

"Out!" She ordered, handing Kazim's bowl to Ahamm wordlessly. The young boy hopped off the table, the chunk of bread in between his teeth. Before he left, she gingerly removed the bandage from his chin and threw it away. He muttered a small thank you before joining his new mentor.

From there, Ahamm gave him food and water, showed him his new side of the room that they would now share, and helped him unpack what few things he had brought with him all while telling him about the Assassin's Order.

"I'm going to be an Assassin?" he asked him the next day, the corners of his lips twitching up into a ghost of a smile. Ahamm grinned and nodded.

"I'll be teaching you from now on. Me and a few other instructors. I didn't think you needed to be assigned a scholar, though. You've already raided the library," he laughed. Kazim smiled, "The scholars would be more than happy to help you anyways." That night, Ahamm gave Kazim his first taste of real beer* and, although he absolutely hated the taste, he felt that Ahamm and Cala had already replaced that empty space in his heart where his mother and father should have filled. Things were starting to look up.

_Things were starting to change for the better._

_**Oo~~*~~*~~oO**_

"Kazim, go into west tower and help Rauf clean out some of the rooms." Ahamm instructed. Kazim nodded and took off with one of the baskets. He'd done this before, many times. Novices did chores all the time. Someone needed to do them and it wasn't going to be the Master Assassins. They finished their chores share when they were novices and it didn't matter to them since they were out on plenty of missions to keep them busy for weeks on end.

"Rauf!" Kazim shouted. There was a small response down the hall before one of the extra doors opened. Rauf was five years younger than Kazim and more of a newer novice to the organization. He was a skinny kid whose body was just showing signs of puberty at his age. Kazim was several ranks higher than him, but they were considered equals when it came to things like chores. That's why he was frequently paired with Rauf. One, because most of the other novices thought Kazim was too quiet and that unnerved them (paranoid brats), and two, because Rauf needed help from someone who knew what they were doing. The kid was one candy away from bouncing off the walls and no one could control him except maybe Kazim. And that was on a good day. Kazim had difficulty capturing the younger boy's attention regardless. He was loud and unpredictable, but it reminded him of his younger brother.

"Kazim!" Rauf screamed, running towards him. The older Assassin winced. Oh, the sudden shock to his ears, that had hurt.

"Rauf," he hissed, "Shhhhhh." Rauf grimaced and apologized. "It's alright." said Kazim, rubbing a temple. "Now, how many rooms have you cleaned?" he asked. Rauf held up his fingers and started to count. "No," he scolded, "Count in your head. You know how." Rauf frowned at him.

"Six rooms." he said after a moment. Kazim nodded.

"There you go. I'll take these last few rooms. Go to the third floor and start on that." Rauf nodded and took off at a run, dropping dirty sheets and towels. Kazim groaned and started to retrieve them. Why was it that he had to babysit?

He threw the linen into his basket, opened the nearest door, and stepped inside, closing it again. Looking up from the floor to inspect the room, he froze.

Staring at him was a woman. A woman. Not only was she a woman, but she was entirely bare standing in the middle of the room; all of her clothes were strewn around the room and so were the sheets.

With a startled cry he whipped around, opened the door, and slammed it in a frenzy, panting. What had he done?

"I'm sorry!" he yelled, flustered, and hoping she could hear, "I didn't know anyone was still occupying these rooms!" Oh hell, he had just messed up. He should have knocked! No, Rauf should have told him if anyone was here. At the thought of Rauf, Kazim flushed with fury. _Raaaaauuuuf._

"It's alright." He heard her say through the door. He blushed wildly.

"No, it isn't." he mumbled.

"You didn't know." _Yeah_, Kazim thought, _but I should have known_, "It's not like I care if you see me naked." Kazim buried his face in his hands with a groan. Good lord, don't get aroused, he thought. Nope, he was safe. Except until he remembered the basket he dropped in the room. _Please, please just go away_, he prayed.

The door opened and she stepped out, clad in a low riding purple, translucentskirt, black sandals, and a dark yellow strip of fabric that only covered her chest (just barely) and left her midriff wide open. Her ivory hair was woveninto some kind of elaborate braid wound up into a bun on top of her head decorated with beautiful beads. Around her neck, a gold chain. He got it now; she was probably one of those harem girls who resided in the garden behind the castle.

"My apologies for not knocking." he stuttered, his face a bright red. She grinned.

"You're a prude, aren't you?" Kazim blanched.

"No."

"I think you are."

"Are you done with this room? I need to retrieve my bearings." He said. She laughed and held out a hand. He shook it.

"My name is Thiza." she smiled.

"Kazim," he replied. There was a small silence, "I'm sorry for not knocking." Thiza raised a slim eyebrow.

"You already said that, Kah-Zeem." she taunted. Was it wrong to say that he was slightly annoyed?

"I realize that. Now, are you finished with this room?" Thiza nodded.

"I'll be back in a few hours so it's all yours."

"Thank you." he sighed, relieved. He was about to wall himself off from this nonsense when she pat his head and said: "Don't mention it kid." Kazim frowned.

"I am not a child," he said, turning around to face her, "If anything, I look older than you." When she glared at him, he rolled his eyes, "Don't give me that look. You should be flattered, it means you look younger than you are."

"Well aren't you bold...How old are you, then?" she asked, leaning against the opposite wall.

"I'm not going to justify that with an answer. But by _your _looks, I'd say you were fourteen." It was like something in the room broke because Thiza's face twisted in pure horror.

"I'd give men sex at fourteen? Please; I have class!" She barked, " I'm seventeen." Kazim rolled his eyes at her mock innocence.

"Yes, well, I'm going to get on with my work before—,"

"KAZIIIIIIIIM!" _Shit._

"Do me a favor and push me out that window?" He groaned. Thiza laughed, kissed his cheek and started down the hallway towards the stairs without so much as a second glance.

"Nice meeting you, Kah-Zeem." she smiled, waving a delicate hand. Kazim blushed and rubbed the cheek she had marked. She was...nice. Different. Refreshing. Maybe he'd talk to her again sometime. His breathing had accelerated too...Was this what it felt like to love someone? He'd certainly read enough about love from a few of Mishal's books, not to mention the library here…was he even old enough to be in love? He made a mental note to ask Ahamm and Cala.

Still blushing, he retrieved the basket and tried not to think about their awkward encounter when Rauf ran up to him.

"Kazim, why is your face pink?" the smaller boy asked, bouncing on his heels. Kazim smiled softly.

"Shh, Rauf."

_He was sixteen._

* * *

_So, that was fun 3  
I really enjoy writing about Kazim, he's definitely one of my favorite OC's. Just to remind you guys, I'm doing these character background stories to help you get in touch with their character, minds, actions, etc. Hope you guys like these things :D I thought it was fun to write. I'll be starting Tahir's soon too. Kazim's is barely finished. If you guys don't like reading them here, I'll just move all of them so that they make up a whole different story so anyone who likes them can read them there too. I just really hope you guys like them _  
_

_My beta SpookieKitten made this kind of comment during the scene where Thiza is calling Kazim a prude:_

_**L1111111iar! XD He is such a prude. (Insert trolling Youtube comment here: :The virginity is strong with this one.")  
**_

_Just thought I should leave that there XD It made me laugh uncontrollably. Anyways,**  
**_

_Stay chill~_


	3. Kazim Part 3

It was a calm evening sometime during the late fall. He sat down in front of his window and watched the rain hit the glass. His room had the perfect view of the castle courtyard, but nothing was really out there to look at. A storm was coming and no one had the desire to 'get struck with lightning', though so uncommon, and there was nothing really beautiful or stunning about the area. Just a lot of dirt.

Quietly, Ahamm opened the door to their room, came in, and sat down at his desk. Lightning lit up the room, illuminating it more than the lone candle on Kazim's desk.

"Kazim?" the older man whispered.

The boy hummed, tracing his finger around a group of raindrops. Ahamm watched for a moment before speaking up.

"I was sure that I was going to come back and find you reading again, maybe more than ever." he joked. Kazim smiled.

"Me too-but it started to rain." he mumbled. Rain was such a beautiful thing to behold. Water falling from various shades of gray clouds, dropping to earth for miles; it was beautiful and it usually happened a few times every year. More often in the winter and fall, but still not often enough. The snow was just as magnificent to him, but snow came every winter. There was no such thing as rain during the

summer and sometimes the fall or spring, just one or the other. One day, he wanted to go to someplace where it rained every fall and spring so that it was consistent. He'd never leave.

"Welcome back from your mission." Kazim deadpanned. "You were gone longer than you said you'd be." he mumbled, spiteful. Since two years ago, Al Mualim decided that Ahamm would be promoted to Master Assassin. Ahamm was so excited, but he'd been going on so many missions since, it was like a punishment of some sort because Kazim had to be trained by someone else and he didn't get to see his friend as often. But on the bright side, he reconnected with Fahd who agreed to train him in his friend's absence. Fahd was a Master Assassin too, but in his old age Al Mualim thought it was better to refrain from assigning him more difficult missions. Kazim had no idea that he was so old though. When he first met him, he looked so young…but he was actually 41. It was rather awkward when he found out, especially since Master Assassin's didn't usually live so long. The old man even had an age complex to boot.

Ahamm straightened and stood up from his desk, his travel pack in hand.

"I have a good reason for that later," he sighed, "but I brought you something." Kazim's head whipped away from the rain spotted window to stare blankly at his friend and roommate.

"Where did you say your mission was located at?"  
"I didn't."  
"Well, tell me now!" Kazim snipped, but instead of telling him, Ahaam only snicked. Kazim turned around from his current seat on the floor to face him, refusing to close his eyes.

"Ahamm," he sighed, "you know I hate games." The Master Assassin rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright, stop whining. You're no fun." Kazim sent him a weak glare.

"I went into Mongol territory over in Asia. To a city called Baghdad near the Caspian Sea. It's an interesting place." he mumbled, dangling his bag from his finger tips. "Have you heard of either of those places?" he asked.

"Of course." The younger boy scoffed.

"Know-it-all. Anyways, it took awhile to get there, but-"

"A while? It probably took days!"

"Yes, it took days, now stop interrupting!" Kazim huffed and threw a crumpled piece of paper at his head. He merely swatted it away.

"_Anyways_, I got there in good time and everything was different there, but you know what I did first? Even before the mission?" Kazim's eyes widened a tad. _Oh-he didn't_.

"I went and looked for some scrolls for you." _Oh-he did_.

Kazim shakily stood up, grabbing the wall for support. His face contorted with pain when his leg twisted in its cast. Fahd had tried to teach him the leap of faith, but he banged it up pretty badly when he landed in the cart of hay. It wasn't entirely broken, but it wasn't 'just a scratch' either.

Apparently, being scared out of your wits _wasn't_ one of the steps to flying like a bird. Who wanted to be a bird, anyways? He was content on the ground, thanks. With that mistake, Fahd had rushed him to the infirmary and successfully showed to most of his peers that he had screwed up the jump entirely. At least he wasn't the only one, though. One of his friends had managed to dislocate their shoulder, relocate it, then dislocate it again before they had him in the infirmary. He couldn't imagine the pain they were going through.

Oh wait: He could.

"Kazim?" Ahamm cocked his head to the side. "What did the hell did you do to your leg?" he asked.

"You're just noticing that now?"

"It's just that...you kind of broke it." Kazim gave a resounding sigh and accepted Ahamm's arm of guidance. With his help, he got to sit on his bed.

"Ahamm," he said, "Its not broken."

"How'd you injure it then?"

"I wasn't meant to be a bird."

"You hurt yourself doing a 'Leap of Faith'?"

"_Yes, now let us drop the subject." _ Ahamm threw his hands up in acceptance and opened his bag, pulling out four large scrolls and a giant leather bound book, handing them to his enthusiastic friend. Kazim scooped them up and laid them out on his blankets, silently appreciating the carved wooden handles and delicately bound book. Outside, the thunder was getting closer. Ahamm smiled and threw his bag back on his side.

"I noticed that whenever you're excited, your mouth twitches." He mused. Kazim wanted to roll his eyes, but, well, he was too excited to care. Out of the four scrolls he picked the largest and put everything else to the side for the time. He unrolled it and recognized it as a map immediately; the ink was used in a different kind of style, almost like the maker had used different types of quills or...brushes to make the lines vary in width. Then again, it looked like the lines were flowing across the page. It was a map of Asia.

"That's called 'calligraphy'." He said, sitting down next to him. Kazim nodded and rolled it back up and choosing another scroll. Another map, it seemed, but of China. His jaw dropped. He owned a map of China.

"This is an extremely detailed view of China...how did you get this, Ahamm?" He breathed, tracing the outlines of the Yangtze river. It was beautiful. Even the scholars didn't posses something like this about a nation so far away.

"One of my objectives was to spy on some kind of nobleman. I found this in his study and thought you'd like it." The younger boy glared up at him.

"You're not supposed to take anything from your targets or else they might notice." More thunder.

"So you _have _been paying attention to your instructors." Ahamm laughed.

"Of course I have," Kazim scoffed, rolling the scroll up. He would definitely study this later, "I wouldn't live a day without books." He smiled, attention drawn to the window. More lightning painted the skys, lighting up the courtyard. Down by the entrance to the castle was a small figure of a person, but in an instant it was dark again. Was someone out there? Who would be out there in this condition? He shakily stood up and looked squinted through the glass. The guards wouldn't even be out in this weather.

"Kazim, what-"

"Shh!" he needed to concentrate. They looked familiar, he just couldn't place it. To Ahamm's surprise, Kazim unhooked the window and threw it open, sticking his head out.

"Kazim!"

"Ahamm! Quiet!" Every time lightning lit up the sky he'd catch a glimpse of the figure as it got closer, but only for a second. With every flash, he pieced together the man dragging himself across the courtyard. Finally, he knew. That person was more than familiar.

"What?" He breathed, his breath coming out in a stream of fog. He leaned further out of the window, much to Ahamm's horror, and silently prayed that his eyes were betraying him.

"TAHIR?" he tried, "TAHIR!" the figure looked around wildly as the sky lit up again. Kazim found himself leaning further and further out until only his legs remained inside. The figure stopped moving. They looked up and took another step forward, towards Kazim's direction, and it brought forth a mixture of pain and relief. The sound barely reached his ears, but he was able to catch it through the roar of thunder:

…

…

…

…

…

"—zeem!"

…

…

…

…

…

Tahir had found him after all these years apart…and he was alive. _Alive._

From behind him, Ahamm tried to peer over his shoulder.

Kazim didn't know whether to jump for joy or end it all and fall out the window instead. He'd spent three years away from his twin. He'd be lying if he said that they weren't the best three years of his life. Now, Tahir was back; his brother would probably join the order too…then his life would be back to the same it was.

But then there was the happiness inside of him that still cared for his little brother. How did he find him here? Why did it take him three years? What about their parents? No, he decided he didn't care about any of that…his brother was alive and that's what really mattered to him. Right?

Ahamm rushed over, bent down and peered over his friend's shoulder.

"Kazim, who is that? What's going on?"

"Help me get down there." He whispered, pushing himself up. His hip knocked against Ahamm's shoulder as he shuffled around for a candle.  
"Wait, what?"  
"Ahamm, help me get down there!" Kazim barked. Candle in hand, he threw himself towards the door and wrenched it open. He hobbled through and the wood splintered when it hit the wall behind him.

"Kazim, wait!"His friend yelled, running after him. Kazim struggled to get down the first half of the stairs with his injured leg. The pain was almost excruciating. He got about halfway down the hallway before Ahamm picked him up and started to jog. "You owe me. A lot." he grumbled. Kazim laughed quietly and rubbed away the tears. "Who is that, Kazim?" he asked. Kazim coughed, wiped the water out of his eyes, and grinned.

"That's my twin brother." he sniffed. Ahamm stayed deadly silent for a few minutes while they made their way down to the courtyard, but in the end, he smiled.

By the time the courtyard came into view, Tahir was still staring at the window probably wondering where his brother was. But he didn't need to worry. Ahamm set him down at the bottom of the stairs and let him hobble over to his brother who had finally taken note of him. Tahir was running through puddles and tripping up steps to get to his brother who equally wanted to do the same, but took each step one at a time. In a way, that was how the two were different. The older brother was built to be like a crippled boy and the other was built to rush. Kazim would take things slowly, but Tahir would rush without thinking. They were complete opposites, but they complimented each other, for when one was stuck, the other would happen by and get them back on their feet. Kazim grinned. He didn't know how much he missed his brother until now.

They were only a few steps away now, but Kazim could feel his leg start to collapse and the pain was almost unbearable. Almost. He slowly tipped forward, and though it looked weird and goofy, Tahir suppressed his laughter long enough to catch his brother and support his weight. He wrapped his around Kazim like boa constrictor and squeezed until he couldn't breathe, but Kazim made sure to do the same. Ahamm watched contentedly from the dry interior of the castle, smiling.

In the infirmary for the second time that month, Kazim sneezed. Their catch up had to resume there of all places. Both sick from the rain, the two brothers sat in a cocoon of blankets on separate tables.

"At least this will be one for the memories, eh?" Ahamm smirked. Next to him, Cala wrapped an arm around his shoulders and smiled. Her stomach was absolutely huge.

The day she knew she was pregnant was the day Ahamm had left for one of his missions and when she found out she almost had a heart attack. Kazim had to calm her down when she stormed into their shared room that day, screaming about being pregnant and how Ahamm was gone, how he could die today and she would never be able to tell him—it was absolutely horrible. In the end, he had to go get Fahd. What choice did he have? She was driving him crazy.

So when she hung around him every single day during her pregnancy while Ahamm was away he had to grab for every ounce of patience he had. And he had _a lot _ofpatience. Fahd thought it was absolutely hilarious though.

Tahir coughed into his arm and leaned against the wall, drinking the water he was provided.

"I spent months tracking you down." Tahir wheezed, looking at Kazim.

"That sounds like loyalty. Wasn't that nice of your brother, Kazim?" Ahamm asked. Oh, he was teasing him, the bastard. Kazim grumbled in response and watched the rain outside pelt the ground ruthlessly. No sooner had the two brothers reunited did the storm finally come in. It was going to lead up to winter. At least, Kazim hoped so. He silently traced groups of droplets and followed them down the glass, thinking.

"What's he doing?" Tahir whispered, squirming in his seat while Cala searched for something in the cabinets. Ahamm nervously glanced over at Kazim.

"He's watching the rain." He said in a hushed voice. Kazim's eye twitched. He was in the room, wasn't he? He liked the rain because of its beauty, and yes, he did find it fascinating, but the word fascination always sounded like some kind of word you'd associate with some kind of caged animal. It irked him because, even if they found it hard to believe, he was no animal.

"What else does he do?" Tahir mumbled, his eyes flicking from his brother to the Master Assassin. Cala spoke this time.

"He stares at the rain instead of going outside."

"Why?"

"It's his inner poet."

"Kazim, you should go out into the rain, not stare at it." said his brother. Kazim shifted in his spot and turned around, adjusting his bad leg. Now _that_ sounded like the old brother he knew.

"And look what happened." he gestured to his brother's runny nose and his own flushed face. Tahir shook his head and jumped off the table, splashing water out of his cup and onto the floor. Cala glared at him, fuming.

"Ahamm." She hissed. Her husband sighed and stood up, reaching for a rag. "I got it." He mumbled, pecking her on the cheek. Cala smiled, content, and snatched the glass from Tahir.  
"No more for you." Tahir threw his hands up and turned back to his older brother.

Ahamm's candle went out right as the window burst open from the wind, scaring Cala and Kazim. The older twin sat there, paralyzed. He didn't like the dark too much. Yes, he was an Assassin—probably a bad one too—but he was practically in the dark all the time with nothing but a candle and he was fine, but now that it was gone, fear coursed through him, brain laced with panic. Ahamm cleared his throat and started shuffling around the table with his arms spreading out trying to find the flint.

"Ahamm..." he mumbled.

"I'm trying to find it, hold on, hold on."

"What's wrong?" Tahir asked.

"Your brother 'doesn't care for the dark'. We go through seven candles a month because he 'dislikes' it so much." Ahamm said. Everyone could hear the smile in his voice.. He yelped when Kazim's boot made contact with his shin.

"Wow, Kazim, you're a handful." Tahir snickered.

In the dark, he found Kazim's shoulder and made his way over.

"Be quiet."

"Ah, there's the brother I remember."

"You two are so...ah! Found it!" There was a quick click and the flame was restored; Kazim let out a coiled breath. His head fell back against the stone wall with an audible_ thunk_ and he shut his eyes.

"Not afraid of the dark my ass." Tahir laughed, but it was short lived when Kazim stood up and asked for help back to the room. He obliged and became his left leg; Ahamm and Cala followed silently, hand in hand.

"You say it took you months to get here...where exactly and how far did you go?" he asked Tahir. Ahamm decided to walk closer at this point.

"Oh, well, I thought you'd be in Jerusalem because the economy there is great, like you told me a while ago and, well, the other villagers agreed, but let me start at the beginning," he sighed, "I was sucked into that bad fever and it took weeks for me to recover. Nothing bad really happened to me, just that I got sick for a while. When I came too, I asked where you were. Mom and dad told me that you died of the same illness...said that you contracted it too,

"He settled for mumbling by now, "And I believed them."

Kazim looked up at his brother who smiled grimly back at him. It was sort of like addressing the elephant in the room; everyone knew it was there, no one wanted to talk about it, but Tahir insisted on pressing the issue.

"My twin had died and I didn't get to see him before they 'buried you' . There was even a fake grave!" He spat. "It wasn't until four months ago I found out about your fight with mom. Mishal finally told me what happened." he whispered. "They lied to me, mother and father, and I wasn't surprised. Mother always bullied you, Kazim. Horrible. I told her to stop, but I guess that just made it worse and—"

He stopped. Someone was coming down the stairs towards them. There was a crash and Thiza came tumbling down, crashing into Kazim, sending him falling back into Ahamm, who steadied himself and Cala by pressing his arms into the walls. Kazim cried out as his leg twisted painfully, moaning when the woman stood up and readjusted herself.

"Holy—I'm so sorry!" she winced. She looked up at Ahamm and Cala in apology, but when she caught sight of Tahir she was silent.

"You have a twin, Kazim?" Tahir nodded enthusiastically for the both of them and helped Kazim stand up again. He didn't seem to notice the dark blush that covered Kazim's cheeks.

"I didn't know you had a brother." she blinked.

"This is Tahir." Kazim said, leaning on Ahamm for a change of pace. Said man pursed his lips, squished between his pregnant wife and apprentice.

"My name is Thiza." She took a small bow and the tunic she was wearing slipped down some, revealing parts of her breasts. Kazim's blush deepened and, this time, Tahir noticed.

"It was nice meeting you. I'd like to stay and chat, but I have to get going now before—" There was a loud crash from the floor above them, then a loud curse.

"HEY!" someone screeched.

"—before that. Move, move, move!" She gave them a fleeting smile before bolting downstairs in the direction of her room in the opposite tower. Kazim watched her go, her skirts whipping around the pale flesh of her ankles. Tahir took his brother's arm again and helped him dodge the man tumbling down after Thiza. He even took the chance to swiftly stick out a leg and cause the Assassin to go tumbling down, face first. Kazim glared at his brother and Ahamm only gawked.

"Quickly, quickly!" he hissed, pulling his wife ahead of them to escape. When they were free of danger, Tahir grinned.

"What?" Kazim asked.

"You didn't tell me you'd met with the lovely Thiza?" Ahamm laughed, graining everyone's attention. Kazim didn't like it when his mentor grinned. It was a baaaaad omen.

"When did you meet her?" Tahir asked, sharing the same expression. If this wasn't a match made in hell, he didn't know what was.

"I met her a few weeks ago." he grumbled. That wasn't good enough for Tahir and Ahamm, though, they needed more answers. Kazim was pelted with questions like 'how long have you known her?' or 'where did you meet?' and 'have you guys done anything yet?.

"Our room is right here." he sighed, relieved. Ahamm opened the door and led them inside; Tahir whistled lowly and observed both halves of the room.

"I think I know which one is yours, Kazim..." he mumbled, looking over the left half of the room. It was buried in stacks of books and small piles of scrolls. His clothes were strewn around his bed, his desk was swallowed in papers and quills, and hanging on the walls were detailed maps of different cities and nations like Europe. Ahamm's half was as neat as it could get, but that was only because Cala liked a clean space.

"He hasn't changed one bit." said Tahir, still gazing at the mess. Kazim gave a sad smile. No, he really hasn't. He was still being quiet, always staying in the shadows, studying like a mad man...everything he used to do even as a child. He really never did change, did he? His mother and father drilled him well, then, because now he couldn't stop. Would they be proud of him if they could see him now? Or would they still haggle him every chance they got?

But he was free! He was free to do whatever he wanted now, so his mother and father never did win. They wanted to control him. That didn't happen because now he had spoken against them. He had become his own person and he was smarter than them both. He was more agile, more accomplished: more useful to people. He was useful, wasn't he?

Wasn't he?

"Kazim?" He blinked and looked up to meet Tahir's curious gaze, "Does he do that a lot too, Ahamm?" The older man sat down and started to unbuckle his boots.

"More often than you'd think." Cala snorted, lowering herself onto their shared bed.

"I could do it less often had I less things to think about." He replied. She threw her hands up in mock innocence and started pulling off her own boots.

"It feels great to be back." he sighed, stretching. Next to him, Tahir squirmed.

"Kazim, where do I stay for tonight?" he asked. Oh, that's right, Kazim thought, sighing. He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and pulled off his gloves.

"Sleep on the floor." Kazim deadpanned. Tahir let out an indignant shout.

"Why can't we just share your bed?"

"Because I am not a woman and it's odd!"

"Stop being a baby."

"Shut up, you two. We're going to sleep." Ahamm yawned, wrapping an arm around his wife. Tahir took this chance to start up a conversation.

"How many months are you?" He asked, gazing at her. Cala sat up again, ignoring her husband's groan of protest. Both he and Kazim groaned. It was baby time.

"Seven months." She smiled, cradling her bulging stomach. Ahamm sat up behind her and toyed with the brown locks that adorned her shoulders, twirling it around his fingers. Cala glanced up at Tahir and back down at her stomach. "If it's a girl, I want to name her Kalila."  
"And if it's a boy…I don't know yet." Ahamm yawned, falling back against the pillows.

"Cala, no baby. Sleep now." He grumbled, pulling on his wife's shirt to get her next to him. Tahir rolled his eyes and went to turn towards Kazim who only stood up silently in return. The older sibling carefully stepped around a pile of scrolls and opened the chest at the end of his bed, retrieving a large wool blanket. He chucked it at his brother. Tahir caught it clumsily, but as a result, he tumbled backwards into his brother's desk. A scroll of Damascus fell off the wall and tumbled down the side, falling over the candle that sat on the floor. A few pens clattered to the floor, but Kazim could care less as he desperately tried to save the old map. It wasn't even his, it belonged to the scholars.

He lunged for the candle and whipped it off, shouting as the flames licked at the brown paper and spread towards his hands. The window was on the other side of the room and he bolted for it, but when it came time to open it, he found that both hands were needed. It would take too long and besides…the scroll was already ruined. Kazim dropped the burnt piece of knowledge and watched it burn out, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Kazim, I'm—I'm really sorry."

"Don't. It was my fault anyways." He mumbled. Ahamm observed Kazim carefully as the younger boy feebly shut his chest and returned to his bed. Never, ever had a piece of literature been so badly treated in Kazim's care. The scholars would be furious to know what had happened, Kazim knew that too.

_Things were supposed to be perfect._


End file.
